


Across Hallow'd Ground

by redhuntsman



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, asshole!Graham, characterdevelopment!Ruby, written before Shadow of the Queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhuntsman/pseuds/redhuntsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graham Humbert is remembering things that aren't quite real. Ruby Lucas finds herself more and more drawn to the pull of the full moon, and puts them both in perilous danger. In the Enchanted Forest, the Huntsman and Red Riding Hood met under unusual circumstances. With the force of the Evil Queen and fate itself against them, will either of these wolves have their happily ever after? // New title!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> Ruby's point of view. Some of you may recognise this work, originally posted on ff.net. I've edited and moved it to ao3, and I will continue it here, but not on the original post. Reviews are appreciated but not necessary.

It wasn't that she hated the attention. No, Ruby loved knowing that people either loved her or hated her, because that was exactly what the colour red was all about, wasn't it? It was love and hate; it was two ends of the spectrum, it was what described her to a T. She blamed the irritability towards Dr Whale on exhaustion, and put a smile on her face. God forbid she complained about his advances when she had, time and time again, rejected him. You know, for a doctor, he didn't seem all that smart.

She leaned against her broom, her eyes darting towards the closed sign, and pretended to listen to the drunken doctor. Maybe one day he would take a hint and let her get back to work. During the time he stayed, she had swept the floor, stacked the tables, and cleaned the espresso machine. She had refilled the sugar pots, and wiped down the bar top, all while entertaining the good doctor. She deserved a better title than waitress. More like town therapist.

He paused for a minute to sip on warm beer, and Ruby took that chance to give him a quick smile and dodge out the back for the mop and bucket. When she turned back, there was a hand on her bare waist and a hot breath in her ear.

"What do you say, Rubes?" Whale was completely wasted, and she regretted letting him stay for so long. He was harmless, and never would have done a thing like it without her bad judgement and generous servings of alcohol. He was just... annoying.

"I'm not- you know I don't do that Victor," She dodged past him with the mop and bucket. He scoffed in a mocking sort of way, and went back to his chair to finish his beer and pull on his jacket. He pressed a smelly kiss against her cheek and made for the door.

"Night kiddo," He called out, and slammed the door in his drunken haste. Ruby gave him a half smile and sat down on his still-warm bar stool, exhaling when she knew he was definitely gone. There was a flash of headlights, and then was a pit in her stomach when she realised she hadn't taken his keys from him. It wasn't her responsibility, and heavens knew Whale knew he should have walked on home. Ruby dropped the bucket and ran out the door, only to crash into a hard chest. She stumbled back and fumbled apologies to run past them- the Sheriff, she recalled in her rush. But when she got to the gate, Whale's car was still out the front, and his silhouette lumbered down the street.

Ruby turned back to Graham and sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry, Sheriff, I thought... that was you pulling up, wasn't it?" Graham smiled at her and tucked a set of keys into his pocket.

"I got his keys, so I don't suppose I could bother you for a meal?" He asked, in that self-deprecating way of his, as if Ruby could ever say no to Storybrooke's own Sheriff. It helped that he lived at the inn too, and knowing that she and Granny would be safe every night made him worthy of countless lasagnes.

"Of course," she smiled, and felt her shoulders drop. She didn't have to put up a pretence around Graham, and it showed. He had been dropping into Granny's diner more and more often these days. Ruby thought that with the arrival of Emma, and her appointment as his deputy, that he'd have more time to himself. There was a bundle of files beneath his arm that indicated otherwise, and she knew he'd be in for a long night. Ruby went back to the kitchen to make him his favourite while he settled in a booth.

This was how it was most nights of the week when she had the closing shift. He would come in for breakfast everyday, always with a sweet note scribbled on his takeaway cup. After keeping Storybrooke safe, and everyone had cleared out, he crawled in for leftovers, with a grateful smile and sweet accent of thanks. He would sit and do his work, while Ruby finished hers in that comfortable silence between them that she always respected. He was one of the few good men in this town, one she was glad was her friend. His obligations to Regina meant he was never far from the Mayor, always at her beck and call. Though it was obvious that he was once attracted to Emma Swan, not the other woman of power, the newcomer had moved on. See? Ruby was more than just a waitress. She knew more about the people of this town and how they worked more than she ever wished to.

She grabbed a knife, fork, napkin, poured a glass of Irish whiskey, and laid them before him, snatching away files with a quick hand. He frowned and grabbed for them, but she held them behind her back.

"Eat, Graham. You can't appreciate the goodness of microwaved lasagne while you're working." She messed his hair a little before placing the files on the other side of the booth, and returning to the mop and bucket.

Ruby slipped off her high heels and socks, and began pushing the warm soapy mop across the floor, when Graham spoke up. "When are you going to get out of here, Ruby?" She turned and saw his eyes scanning the files again, a scoop of lasagne on his fork, and huffed. She gave a shrug and continued cleaning.

"One day. Why?" She dipped the mop again and squeezed out the water. "You going to come with me?" She grinned at him, which in turn made him smile.

"Sure. Where're we going?" Graham teased, taking a sip of his usual drink. Ruby leaned her chin on the mop and pouted her lips in thought.

"How about Hawai'i?"

"Too hot,"

Ruby rolled her eyes, and tip toed across the wet floor to start a new section. "Iceland?"

"Too cold!" He laughed and shook his head.

"Make up your mind, then! What about..." She twirled a little too fast, and before she knew it, she was slipping over, and fell on her back and elbow. Graham made a choking noise from his seat, and went to get up before she waved him off, her blush peeking out from below her make up. Ruby made her way over to his booth, and took a seat, with a hiss and scowl of pain.

"Here." He slid the cold whiskey across to her, which she took with a grateful smile and pressed to her sore elbow. He frowned and slid closer, holding her wrist to inspect the bruise with calloused, warm hands. "Does it hurt?" She nodded and laughed off her own clumsiness, aware of just how close he was. And when she wasn't expecting it, Graham lifted her arm to kiss her sore elbow. She was too embarrassed to even speak, but her mouth dropped ajar just a little and gave a silent smirk. Graham laughed at her reaction and placed her hand back down, to return to his meal and work.

Sometimes, when she knew he couldn't see, Ruby liked to watch him. She loved people watching, and to be honest, it was half of her job on a slow day. She loved the way he crinkled his nose when he opened his mouth to eat, as gross as that was. And the way he wiped off pasta sauce with the back of his hand without any regard for who was watching. But this time he did spot her, and smiled. "What?" he asked. Ruby shook her head and stood to finish her mopping, glad that there would always be comfort between them. Even if he did kiss her elbow like a little girl who had fallen.

Sometime later when the clock rang midnight, she locked the front door, gathered her things, and waited by the counter. Graham had become engrossed in his work again, while the waitress turned her back to him and swiped away the last of her lipstick on a tissue. Like letting go of the day's difficulties, a giant weight off of her shoulders, it was just another weight to pick up again in 7 hours.

Graham's hand grasped her slim shoulder, and she jumped a little, not expecting him. His eyes-- too big for his own good-- looked at her with concern, and she could have kicked herself for acting like such a fool all night.

"Come to bed? Ah, I mean--" He spluttered on his words, and grasped his files with a tighter hand as Ruby barked out a laugh.

"You only had to ask, Sheriff," She grinned, and shoved his shoulder. Her eyes searched his, hungry for any kind of response, but met only empty eyes. She gave a harsh swallow and plastered that smile on her face again, not willing to ruin their friendship for a slip of tongue. "Unfortunately, I don't think Granny would appreciate it. Under her roof, and all." She leaned back against the counter, wishing she still had her high heels on to meet his eyes at their level. Graham blushed a terrible shade of red, and scratched the back of his neck in the awkward moment.

"You know what I meant." The Sheriff spoke with embarrassment, and edged away from her, slipping a heavy stone like guilt into her stomach. She thought he knew who she was, that she was only kidding when she went along with his little slip up. Maybe he thought she was the town slut too. She nodded, and gave him that same sad smile again.

The waitress replaced her shoes and socks, hit the switch for the lights, and together they walked out the back door to the inn. She didn't mean to make him feel uncomfortable at all; she just forgot how bashful he could be, how innocent and wary he'd become. The flustering warm cheeks were sweet, compared to the leering and smug glances of the diner's regulars. In a fit of rage, Granny had once told her she deserved the looks they gave her, like she deserved to be treated like trash. Ruby was not trash; family was family and she loved Granny more than anyone, but there were times when all she wanted was freedom. Ruby unlocked the door of the inn and lead the way up the staircase, when Graham's hand grasped her wrist and stopped her in her path. She didn't realise the thoughts of her grandmother had sprung angry tears into her eyes. Like Graham knew exactly what she needed he pulled her into his arms. She buried herself against his chest and let out a quiet sigh.

Sheriff Graham may have been a little awkward when it came to the ladies, and more delved into his work than what was healthy. Hell, she had half a hundred flaws and more that even Granny didn't know about. Graham had always been better than the others, because he didn't judge her, and he would not start when she stained his vest with tears. 

Mary-Margaret was her closest friend, considered her to be her confidante, but sometimes it wasn't enough. For a moment she thought that perhaps he understood that living one life and putting on a face for another was just a little too hard to handle. She gave a heavy sigh, and stepped back.

"'Night, Graham," Ruby spoke in a hush, to walk the rest of the way up the stairs and enter her room, the first door on the left. Buried beneath her blankets, she let out a breath she didn't know she had held in, and let the sinking sensation of self-pity follow.


	2. Big Fire, Big Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Huntsman is sent to scour the countryside for a lone Child of the Moon, only to find someone unexpected. Inspired by the song The Wolf by Fever Ray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Huntsman's point of view.

The other soldiers laughed at him, he knew, both behind his back and in his face, yet the Huntsman gave no care on the outside. On the inside he was hollow, but he needed no heart to feel shame. Shame because the Queen ordered him to her bed, not the other way around. Embarrassment because she had him on a tight leash, and each time she let him wander she'd tug back with a vicious grip and venomous laugh. The Huntsman had made love to other women before the Queen, of course, but this was not making love. It was mechanical, automatic, and as repetitive as his duty as a soldier. And he hated it. He hated her.

It was the day before the King's Moon when she called him to her chambers again; he began to shrug off his shirt before she made him do it. Regina lay upon her sprawling bed, like a spider waiting for prey, and watched him with trained eyes.

"Huntsman, what do you think you're doing?" She asked with that hypocritical smile and ridiculing voice. He frowned, and tugged his clothing back on.

"I thought--"

"I know what you thought. Armour yourself, you're going hunting."

Just the idea of being in the woods once more sent a thrill through his skin, but never for hunting. He hunted only to feed himself, and it was a great sacrifice, not a sport to held with false honour as it was in the villages. The Huntsman met her eyes before she spoke again.

"As I'm sure you know, the King's Moon is rising this week. There have been reports of a true Child of the Moon wandering the outskirts of a village in the North. None of the villagers know who the beast is without it's fur, but under the King's Moon it's powers will increase tenfold." The Huntsman shivered at this. He had grown up with the Children of the Moon, knew of the absolute power the abnormal moonrise held over them. A rogue without a pack in a small village during King's Moon meant certain devastation.

"What would you have me do? I told you I would kill no wolves."

At this Regina leapt from her throne of pillows, and like magic she was before him, fury made fire made flesh raw in soulless eyes. The Huntsman stumbled back a pace before she spat her command.

"You will do as you are told, Huntsman, before I crush your heart and sprinkle the dust over my breakfast. Do I make myself clear?!" If she could have killed with a look, the Huntsman would have been long dead. He nodded with obedience, swallowed back all the insults he wanted to scream at her face, and turned to leave.

Before he had arrived the Huntsman could hear the villager's horns and drums, like a thrum in his veins. Clumsy feet and hearty boasts of killing the beast, heavy steps and lies all the same. He had opted to travel on foot rather than horse, but the journey had taken him all day; it must have been midnight by the time the drums settled. The elders of the village chanted and played their hymns, while the children danced around the mounted head of a black wolf. Even the sight of it set him on edge. In the small village, where summer had settled like a wet blanket of humidity, his skin tingled in the night air.

The Huntsman did not need to have an intimate knowledge of the werewolves to know that that was not the beast they searched for. It would have turned man once more following his unjust death. They had beheaded an innocent wolf for the sake of settling their people. Before he got carried away, the Huntsman bit away a stray tear, and left for the forests.

The trails of the humans had torn through the forest floor, the destruction lighting a path anyone could see even in the dark of night. On the outskirts of the village men and women mourned their fallen, wails and cries heard for miles. Word of a pack lead by the greatest wolf anyone ever seen passed to his ears, and made no attempt to set up camp. He left in the dark, ready to track the so-called she-beast.

He counted five fallen wolves by the time he found her den. All dead by the hand of man, not nature or the werewolf. Still, the horns and drums from the village pounded away, but the Huntsman heard only a blood-curdling howl to the south. He was on his feet then, arrow nocked and loaded for a moment's notice, flying through the woods as silent as the wolves he had grown up with. The cave was deep, ringing with the sound of an injured beast, and before he even stepped into it, he knew it wasn't a place he'd soon forget.

A wolf of unnatural size, twice the weight and height of any other he'd known, limped ahead of him. Her tail sat out of place, and right shoulder bled like a red current. If she heard him she made no sign of it; in fact, it was like he wasn't there at all. Especially not when the wolf's fur shrunk away, and her tail disappeared into her spine. Her ears curved and maw formed a delicate mouth, but this only took a split second before the beast before him became... a girl. A naked girl, with her back turned to him, her hair caked with blood, and a gash to her bare shoulder that would have left a grown man crying.

The Huntsman shifted behind a rock shelf and cursed himself for staring for so long. Not only were his defences down, but it was indecent, especially when she was so wounded. He heard the shuffling sound of fabrics, but it was a whimper that brought him back around the corner. Her dress had gathered at her hip, for it seemed her shoulder wound left her unable to move her arm. Magic in this world always came at a price, and it appeared this girl paid for it dearly. Not even he, as a great victim of sorcery, could deny that the way her wounds healed was incredible. The girl had scooped her hair around her neck to look at the place where her injury once left her crippled, when her golden eyes caught his. The Huntsman's breath caught in his throat, before he could manage to spit out but three words.

"You are beautiful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the show Red comes back in her clothes when she shifts, but I'm taking creative liberty for the sake of the story and believability.


	3. You'll Find Me In The Shallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby's new friends meet their ends at the hand of men. Inspired by the song Shallows by Daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's point of view.

Snow White left Red's new cottage a week before the next full moon, heeding her friend's advice to get as far away as she could. It had only been a few days, and already she missed the bandit princess, but she promised not to lay idle. In Red's short time with Quinn and her mother they taught her what they could, from foraging for shelter, to finding the best prey. They even lectured her on the moons, and how each one was different. The Worm Moon signified the end of winter, when worms and other creepy crawlies dug their way from the frozen earth to greet spring. The Thunder Moon was named for the storms that ravaged the Enchanted Forest. And of course the Wolf's Moon, in the dead of winter, when hungry wolves howled outside of villages, desperate for prey in the cold.

Each moon signified something important for the Children of the Moon; they needed only the night sky to know when the time came. The King's Moon was the most significant and dangerous of all. Anita said it was when the moon's pull on the earth was stronger, and ran their blood hotter and wilder than ever. Children of the Moon grew more powerful in those 4 days; even in their human form able to hear and smell better than ever. Their strength increased tenfold, to a terrifying power, and she would be so fast not even the quickest hunter could catch her.

It was the middle of summer when Red's first King's Moon arrived, and she began feeling it a week before. It made her needy and wanton, desperate for company, before the wrong kind of company arrived. An entire pack of wolves migrated into these woods she had grown to love, threatening the safety of the humans and their village. It was when they rallied a hunting party so large and fearsome that Red was certain she and her friends had no chance. They had a bloodlust for wolves, it seemed, the countless pelts and mounted heads a tribute to the fact. It would not be the first war they would win.

The King's Moon arrived, and with it the most difficult transformation she had known. Usually she barely felt her bones breaking to form her wolf, but this moon left her tired, slow, and needy. She felt every bone snap, each claw grow and each tooth push aside to bare great fangs. The other wolves looked up to her, acknowledging her as their leader, and with this Red did her best to keep them safe. Howls filled the woods, creating an effect that made twenty wolves sound like fifty, and for a moment she could taste victory.

The battle was bloody, but Red pushed on, ignoring the pain in her shoulder to protect those who trusted her. A mother and her pups sheltered in the den, but Red had turned to fight a group of men with nets and let herself get distracted. The mother died with a spear to her spine, the pups stolen for coats. The poor excuses for men fought with silver, her only real weakness during a King's Moon; there was nothing fair about this war.

She had killed just five men by the time it was over. The great black wolf they took for a token had been beheaded and carried away, leaving a metallic trail. With a solemn howl she tended to wounds, pointless despite her need to heal her friends. She was not fit to be a leader, let alone a good wolf. There was blood gushing from her shoulder, and gore all over her maw and claws. She registered the blood in her ears by the way her steps sounded so muffled, quiet despite her lumbering in the dark. Would it have been like this if she stayed with Anita? Battle after battle to protect something she wanted desperately to be her own?

She padded back to the cave, her tail between her hind legs, limping all the while begging her human self to not cry. The pain in her heart was greater than the pain in her shoulder, like she had taken all their deaths herself. She wanted to ravage the village, to show them what a true wolf could do. All she could manage was one transformation, then a desperate need to sleep. Bones cracked, nails replaced claws, and fur shrunk to reveal pale skin once more.

Gingerly, Red shrugged on her dress, tugging it up her hips and letting it rest on her waist. It would not budge higher without a hiss of pain, as her shoulder bled hot and furious. With a steady grasp and bared teeth, she tugged the silver arrowhead and bit down a cry as it pushed out from her skin. The resulting low growl silenced as the silver clattered to the stone floor. The hot sting of magical healing began again then, a relief she didn't know she was desperate for.

Tucking blood-matted hair across her shoulder, Red turned to inspect the smooth skin when the scent of man hit her nose again. She was certain they had forgotten about her, and panic rose in her chest when she spotted him. Tall, armed with silver arrows, and a familiar red scarf. She had never hated someone so much. Who was he to kill and call something beautiful? He was a monster too, just like the rest of them. She pulled on the last of her dress, and with incredible speed, had him pinned to the wall of the cave.

"You are stupid if you think flattery will get you anywhere," Red hissed, eyes flashing gold in her rage. "You and your people killed my friends. Twenty wolves and their pups, for the sake of a little land?" She shoved him tighter against the wall then, before he brandished a hunting knife and pushed her away. She braced herself from tripping over, before baring her teeth in blind anger. How dare he? This was her den, her safe place; he had done enough. Already she was considering how to remove his throat when he spoke up.

"I did not kill the wolves!" The man shouted, his knife ready to defend, pulse racing loud in her ears even from here. Not the kind of speed that a liar would beat at. He was just scared.

"Why do you have that then?" She pointed at the discarded bow and silver arrows. He swallowed and frowned a little, before making his admission.

"I am under the Queen's orders to subdue and kill the Child of the Moon harassing this village." He spoke in a hush, eyes meeting hers. She thought before that they were just brown, emotionless like the other hunters. They were the deepest blue she had ever seen in a human. Nonetheless, she prepared herself to change back to the wolf again, before he spoke up. "But I can't. I won't."

Red frowned. She knew this man, she realised. Snow had spoken of him once. He belonged to the Evil Queen, but before, he was a Huntsman. He protected the wolves, lived with them, loved them. He abandoned Anita's pack. She gave a huff, and turned back to her things. "You should leave, Huntsman." Her voice was low, barely disguising her obvious dislike for him, no matter how much he was cared for by the wolves. She pulled on her red cloak, safe in it's confines, and turned to him. His expression had changed from wonder to sadness. Perhaps now he knew what the forest had become for wolves since his betrayal.

She strode to the mouth of the cave, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. The Huntsman's eyes were full of tears, tears that broke her façade long enough to make her regret treating him with such disdain. He did care for the wolves. Why wasn't he here with them then?

"What?"

"...Who are you?"

"I'm just a girl. Let me go."

He held her tighter then. If she wanted, she could have crushed his grip.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." He spoke with sincerity, and for another brief moment she let her anger fall away. The mother wolf, whose pups were stolen, laid slain in the cave, and the sight of it churned her stomach to tears again.

"I am too, Huntsman. May you always run free beneath the moon's pale light."

She ran then, as fast as the wolf in her heart, under branches, below ledges. When she was certain the Huntsman could not follow her trail, she ran faster for half a day, until she finally came home. Beneath the warmth of her blankets by the roaring fireplace, she finally let herself grieve. For her fallen family. For the fallen wolves, and for the Huntsman who should have been there but was too late to help them at all.

Would it always be like this, without a pack? She had her Granny, and Snow, but without fur they were just as vulnerable as the wolves that lay dead in the forest. She thought of the Huntsman before falling asleep, of empty blue eyes and sheer humility in the face of wrongdoing. He had lost his pack a long time ago too-- would he not like another?


	4. Fire In The Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham meets his inner wolf, and a real beast. Inspired by the song Fire in the blood/Snake Song by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a little NSFW. Graham's point of view.

Graham didn't quite know when he began to think of Ruby as more than just the sweet girl at the diner. She had a reputation, of course, something he chose to ignore. More than that, she had an incredible ability to weave her way into his life, and make someone feel loyal to her. As though he was obliged to owe her something. He was proud to be her friend, and the night before had only made him more curious of the girl behind the red lipstick. Ruby, crying? Practically unheard of. She was made of nails and iron, for which he thought he could admire.

He had dreamed vividly once more, had almost every night since Emma came to town. Some nights he dreamed of Emma herself. Others were filled with the forest, of hunting deer and following trails. Sometimes there was a flash of red that had his chest aching, before he woke to an empty bed; or heaven forbid, Regina's. It wasn't the mayor who left him sleepless this morning.

Tossing over in bed, the Sheriff tried to think of anything that wasn't the way Ruby's hips moved as she walked. Or the way her lips curled into a smirk, after her understated wit won another argument. It was five minutes before his alarm was due to go off, and he had no intention of leaving the warmth of his bed so soon. Graham had never known love, or true joy like they said it would be, but even he knew desire. Hated how it worked it's way through his blood, left him merciless to a hormone-riddled mutiny. What was he, an animal? The birds were the singing in the pines and in the morning sun, but his mind and his male needs had other thoughts to deal with.

Tossing the sheets back, Graham made his way to the bathroom before the problem got out of hand. He ached in his briefs before leaving them on the tile floor, and blasting the hot water in the shower. It was base, he knew, getting off over his friend, over the girl who had nothing but time and genuine care for him. Who had gorgeous long legs that would look even better around his hips. Red lips that didn't spit hate like Regina's, but kindness and a type of flirtation that could kill a man in his seat. Graham palmed his cock roughly, letting the warm water roll over his back, and loosed a thick groan at the thought of her in here with him. He promised himself then, tugging faster, his hips moving in rhythm, that this was the last time. He most likely couldn't even look at her after this.

He thought of the way her hips moved as she walked, of the timbre of her voice and how it would echo in his bedroom. He imagined one of her legs around his hip and the other over his shoulder, wishing his hand could make a remotely good enough imitation. His hips bucked then, another moan rippling from his chest. Ruby, in the cruiser, straddling him with hair wild and noises uninhibited. On her knees before him, red lips around the head of his cock. In his bed, wearing only the smile he knew she reserved for him, and none other. The water had begun to run cold when he spilled across the tile wall, teeth bared as he begged to stifle his groan and the whisper of her name. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

By the time Graham had dressed and made his way through the diner, the breakfast crowd had already arrived. Ruby had a customer on each arm, and for once, he was thankful. He couldn't face her right now, and even Emma, who sat with Henry and his stories, could spot something was up from across the room.

"You alright there?" The blonde asked from behind her mug, a perfectly groomed brow arched in question. He shrugged it off as tiredness, and thanked her for the cup of coffee. Promising to meet Emma later, the Sheriff took his leave, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel of the cruiser. Perhaps visiting Regina after sorting out tortuously good morning wood wasn't a good idea.

She dressed in black from head-to-toe once more, already setting his nerves on edge. Before Emma Swan came into town, before he had made her his deputy, life as her lackey was easy.

"Have a nice night, did you, Sheriff?" She didn't even bother to hide her ire. Graham put on the face he knew would placate her best, the submissive henchman, and spoke up.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I've been stuck on a pile of paperwork for the--"

"If you're still so hard worked, what was the point of hiring Miss Swan?"

Graham clenched his jaw, biting back a retort that would only result in more punishment. Regina folded her arms, lips pursing in a way that made another set of crimson lips look like the only desirable alternative. He hated being in her bad books, but struggled to find a reply that would please blind envy.

"It seems she's not quite the saviour everyone might believe her to be." Regina looked pleased with herself, and he chose to let her believe it.

"I need the report compiled for the arbourer by Friday, and the open mine secured off properly. Go, before I change my mind."

He hated to be dismissed by her, like something to treat with contempt. There were nights when he enjoyed her company. Graham had even grown to look forward to them, to familiar lips and talented hands. Though there had never been any love between them to be lost, it was still hard to admit that he cared for her, in some way. Knew the tender side of the woman everyone seemed to hate, no matter how hard she worked for this town. And now? If anyone knew about them, they knew it was nothing more than using one another for release. He had to wonder though, what would happen when one or the other tired of it all. Found someone else, even. He pushed those thoughts away, and excused himself to return to work.

For the first time in years, Graham had a task to do that wasn't petty fines and speeding tickets. An earthquake had opened the mine on the outskirts of the town that just called for someone to fall down it. It would be some weeks before they could close it off and maybe even fill it in; until then, they had no choice but to guard it themselves. He liked Emma's company, how easily she had ruffled him, coming into his town with that red jacket like she owned the place. She had established a firm working relationship between them-- and nothing more. Today, it was something for which he was glad.

Taking the shorter route to the mine from Regina's house, it couldn't have been midday when he came across the wolf. Still, the sun was dimly filtered by cloud cover, and even with it's bright white fur, Graham did not notice the animal until it was too late.

The cruiser swerved, missing the wolf by a hair's breadth, and broke through the road barrier. By the time Graham lost consciousness, the wolf was gone once more.


	5. Head Over Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby finds herself shouldered with a little extra responsibility. Inspired by the song Head Over Heels, covered by Digital Daggers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruby's point of view.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that Emma called the diner's main line, her voice strained, tears evident. Ruby had been working since 6am and had barely noticed the hustle of customers, her mind had been elsewhere. Apparently, they had all been at the mine, because young Henry Mills had fallen in.

"I'm so sorry Emma. When can they get him out of there?"

The voice on the other line was shaky. She didn't know Emma Swan well, only knew she was the kind of person she aspired to be. She was so independent and free, and hearing her voice break meant the situation was far more dire than she envisioned. "We're doing all we can-- I'm sorry, Ruby, but it's not why I called."

She paused. "What's wrong?"

"It's Graham." Her breath caught in her throat-- had he fallen too? Before her mind could conjure the worst imagery, the voice on the line interrupted those thoughts. "By the looks of it, he had an accident on the way to the mine. They've taken him to see Whale."

Still confused, Ruby let Emma finish. What would she ask of her? Why was she telling her this in the first place?

"He was knocked up pretty bad. When they pulled him out, he was just muttering nonsense. Your name amongst it, actually."

"M-mine?"

"Yeah. So I was wondering, since it's so busy down here, would you mind picking him up and keeping an eye on him?" In the background of the call she could hear car horns, and wondered what exactly was going on there. The fact that Emma thought to call her to help her boss, to even think of her at all, was something she smiled for.

"Of course. Thanks for calling, Emma."

The blonde paused for a moment, before giving a small chuckle. "Anytime."

She hung up then, and immediately went to grab her car keys. Granny peered at her from beneath half-moon glasses, in that 'What do you think you're doing?' kind of way.

"Send Ashley down to the mine with food and hot drinks," Ruby muttered, pulling on a jacket. Granny's eyebrows perked up at this. "I have to go pick up the Sheriff from the hospital, okay?"

Perhaps feeling so self-important was a little indulgent. But a small-town waitress didn't get her kicks off of serving food to middle-aged men every single day. She gave her grandmother a small wave goodbye, and headed for the red camero.

* * *

 

The hospital was quiet when she arrived, smoothing out her hair after finding directions. She didn't meditate the possibility of running into Dr Whale again before she ran into him in the doorway to Graham's room. He wasn't even embarrassed.

"I'm here to drive Sheriff Graham home," She said with a stony face, not bothering to pretend. He lay behind Victor's shoulder on a bed, a large bandage plastered to the corner of his forehead. Around his left wrist was a plastic brace, and she had to wonder exactly what had happened to get him in this situation.

"You are?" They both asked at the same time, though with vastly different expressions.

"Emma's a bit busy." As the words left her mouth, she wondered how he would take it. He really didn't have anyone else in this town to rely on, and for a moment, she found it a little sad.

"Right." Victor's eyebrow was arched, still confused on why a waitress had been delegated such a task. "Well, he has a mild concussion, a little scrape, and a sprained wrist. He needs someone to keep an eye on him tonight." Something Ruby would gladly do.

"Thanks, Doctor Whale." Graham looked on with desperation, as though begging to be saved the blinding hospital lights.

"Well, well, well. And I can recall several occasions where I was blamed as the bad driver." She grinned in that wolfish way, all teeth bared. Graham snorted laughter, and swung his feet from the bed.

"Rub it in, then. Did you ever end up paying off those speeding tickets?"

Ruby hid a smirk, and helped his arms through his jacket. It smelled of burnt sugar and pine needles, before she banished those thoughts from her head. "I never did. I have this friend, you see, who works for the mayor. He's pretty wonderful, getting rid of them for me." His chuckle was contagious. They signed the paperwork and got him out of there. She didn't fail to see the way he began to relax out of the sterile environment.

She drove slowly back into town, even going so far as to remove her high heels; something she never did before. It was just the dashboard lights illuminating them, and the background of the radio crackle, when she spoke up. She told him of Henry and Emma, about the mine, and refused to let him go back there. He needed rest, and she had questions to be answered.

"What happened, Graham?"

He didn't reply straight away, his attention given to his cast. "There was a wolf on the road. I didn't see it, and swerved to miss it." He made a non-committal sound, as though laughing at himself. Ruby, on the other hand, was glad he did. Though not for the concussion, but for the wolf. Most other people knew not to swerve, to just hit the dull animal and continue. Graham had more honour than that.

She went to mention what Emma said, how he had been saying her name, but stopped herself. What was that about?

"Whale wants me to keep an eye on you tonight. I'm afraid you're either stuck with me or Granny."

"Brilliant, I haven't spent nearly enough time with Mrs Lucas lately."

"Nice to see your sense of humour hasn't been sprained too."

"Who said I was joking?"

She felt her lips curl into a smile then, their familiar banter filling any awkward spaces. She could feel him watching her as she drove, his gaze on her face or her hands, and it burned her from the inside out. Blaming it on the pain medication Whale had undoubtedly prescribed, Ruby brushed it off before she thought on it too hard.

By the time they had returned, the dinner crowd had arrived, but Ruby had no stomach to sit in the diner tonight. Grabbing two plates of spaghetti and some beer, they sneaked out the back door, Graham a little too loud to be subtle in any sense. His face blanked as she went to open the door to her apartment.

"We're eating in here?" He asked cautiously. Ruby quirked an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?"

"N-no, I just-- I don't think you've ever shown me it."

She wondered if he thought half the men in town had been in her bed, and turned to open the door before he could see her fallen expression. It was larger than the usual rooms given by the inn, with less floral wallpaper and more... Ruby. In the corner was a single bed draped in red and pink sheets. Bookshelves and band posters adorned the walls, and made the room look bigger than it really was. She set the food and drinks on the coffee table, and tucked a foot beneath her leg as she sat.

"What do you think?" Graham wandered over eventually, perching himself at the other end of her couch.

"It's exactly what I imagined."

"And that is?"

"Just... Ruby." She felt it was a compliment, and took it as one. He eyed her as she opened the beers, handing him one without question. "I don't think I should be drinking."

"And I don't think I've ever heard you turn down a drink." Ruby reached out and jokingly touched his forehead, careful not to graze his bandage. He was fine to the touch, but she decided then and there that taking care of Graham was a little more fun than either of them envisioned. She could smell him from here, that sugar scent mixed with anti-septic. Graham smiled, and shook her off.

"Pass it here, then,"

"That's the Graham I know." She handed over the beer, and began her dinner. The pair of them didn't bother with table manners, she knew, and didn't mind it at all. They were three-quarters of the way through their beer when she asked him the question that had been bugging her all night. They had moved from their spots, his arm over her shoulder, her legs curled up beneath her. Ruby wasn't sure if it was the beer or the contact that had left her cheeks warm.

"Emma said when they pulled you out of the cruiser, you were talking nonsense." Graham laughed at this, sipping at his beer. "She said you were saying my name."

His expression dropped, from amusement, to shock, to confusion. She covered it up, not daring to make him feel so uncomfortable. "You'd better not have blamed the crash on me. I have alibis, you know." Why she thought it was a good idea to ask was beyond her in the moment.

"I'm not so sure your grandmother is a trustworthy witness."

Ruby gave a fake sigh, and laughed. "That's probably true."

He was staring at her mouth this time, his own lips twisted into a smile. "Thanks," He murmured, bottomless blue eyes meeting her own. "For picking me up. For sticking around."

"Of course, Graham. It's not like anyone else would do it." She teased, banishing thoughts of how he might taste if she happened to kiss him. He laughed at her reply, and they fell back into their comfortable space.

"I honestly don't know," He confessed, sipping at his drink. "I don't remember much before waking up in the ambulance."

"It's alright, I understand. I'm hell in high heels, and you knew you weren't headed for the pearly gates." Ruby didn't know when teasing Graham had ever been quite so fun. He scoffed, blushing a terrible shade of red. "Listen, don't go towards the light, okay?"

"You're ridiculous."

Ruby just sipped at her beer, and let him pull her tighter to his side. Casablanca was playing on her old television, the black and white almost static on the screen. They let the familiar songs fill the silence between them, before they both spoke up at the same time.

"You go first," She insisted. Graham shook his head.

"No, you."

"How are you feeling? How's your arm?"

Graham just shrugged, and as soon as his arm peeling away from her shoulders she regretted asking. "I feel a lot better now. I don't know how to thank you."

She could list a few ways, she thought to herself, before turning her smirk into a totally innocent smile. Before she could answer, a yawn overtook her.

"And I'll take that as my cue." Graham smiled at her again, gaze darting between her eyes and lips.

"You don't have to go yet--"

"I should, before Granny kicks me out."

She walked him to the door, stifling another yawn on the back of her fist. She felt cooler without him at her side, and already found herself worrying. "If you don't feel well, you know where I am."

"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Ruby."

Stepping forward, Ruby gathered her courage, leaned on her tip-toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Most likely, he wouldn't see the lipstick kiss-shaped stain until he saw a mirror. That is, if it didn't blend in with his reddened cheeks.

"Goodnight."

"Night."

It took him a few moments to gather himself and leave, both of them smiling like idiots. She was completely head over heels for him, and it was showing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know what kind of car Ruby drives so I just picked a name at random. Does anyone else know?


	6. Feel Something, Let You In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Huntsman bites off more can he can chew in the captivating wolf girl. Inspired by the song Twisted by Fractures.

Following and finding the werewolf was harder than he had ever imagined. The Huntsman knew trails and knew the woods like the back of his hand. He didn't have to live in them to know that the ridge to the south hid a herd of deer, or that the mountain in the north was filled with bear caves. But finding the girl-- no, the woman-- from earlier was proving nearly impossible. She had hid her trail well enough, stopping only to drink at a stream or avoid another hunting party. By the time he figured out that she had indeed doubled-back, it was almost dawn, and he was exhausted.

Initially he had begun by searching for dens-- caves, gullies, even the hollow of a tree trunk seemed appealing to a wolf. But she had no pack, and no purpose to be hiding in anything less than her human form on a night like this. Being caught in her furs by a hunting party would mean certain death.

It was a curl of smoke from a chimney that gave her away.

The cottage was small and cosy; there were no candles lit, nothing but a fire going out into embers. He knew after such a fight she must have been fast asleep, and approaching an exhausted werewolf was not on his list of things to do today. Instead the Huntsman sat, gathered his bow to his side, and waited. Would she be terribly angry at him? He understood why she had assume he was with the hunters, the murderers. Carrying silver-tipped arrows had only one purpose; but, wasn't that what he was here for? To kill her and take her pelt?

He'd told the queen he would never kill another wolf, and she was no exception. He would rather suffer Regina's anger than live to see another Child of the Moon die.

Then why was he here, waiting on the outskirts of the clearing? Did he expect her to accept his apology, offer him a cup of tea, and see him on his way? He didn't know why he said what he said earlier. Yes, she was beautiful. It had been the first time he'd paid a compliment without a threat hanging in the air, but it had done no good. She wasn't one to be pleased or placated by good intentions, not after what those men had done to her. What he would have done to her, given the chance.

Clutching his bow in his lap, it took only moments to nod off to sleep, and what felt like minutes was hours. He awoke to the sound of panting and crunching leaves, a sound that made him forget who he was for just a moment.

Before the Huntsman left his life in the woods to stone walls and a near-constant grip on his heart, he had one friend in a wolf. The red eyes trotted by only briefly, his attention drawn to the cottage, before disappearing back into the woods. The door opened only moments later, revealing the werewolf without her furs. Still wearing that red cloak, her golden eyes burned through him. If looks could kill...

"I told you to leave," Her stride was purposeful, pulling him to his feet before she did it herself. The Huntsman bared his hands in a show of innocence, which seemed to placate gold into a nice shade of blue.

"I just want to talk." He didn't need to say it loudly, as she had walked so close, he could smell her scent. The purple flowers that grew in the valley, and a metallic smell that could only be blood. Her eyes creased in suspicion, before she moved so fast he barely saw her go at all. In one swift move she had broken all his silver arrows in half; he could re-fit the arrowheads to new shafts, but it would take time. The Huntsman didn't dare show any sign of disapproval.

"You will not try to hurt me,"

"Never."

"You will not bring the Evil Queen or her men here,"

"She probably already knows."

The werewolf sighed at that, and brushed back her hood. Perhaps coming here was not a good idea after all, especially not if he would put her in harm's way.

"Come on, then. Tell your friend he can stay outside."

The cottage was tiny on the inside, and the Huntsman had to duck to pass the threshold. He had so many questions to ask, so much to discuss. How did she know who he was? Was his status as the Queen's personal Huntsman reach even the ears of this lone wolf? He removed his scarf and sat at the offered chair, going to speak up, before she beat him to the chase.

"How long were you with a wolf pack?" The words came from beautiful lips, but laced with anger were nothing less than cruel. How much did she know about him already?

"How did you know that?"

She paused, and sat across from him. Long legs folded beneath a tattered skirt, her hands occupied by one another as she found her words. "I believe we have a mutual friend. You taught her much, Huntsman. More than I ever could. For which she owes you a life's debt."

Of course she knew Snow White. He had to wonder which of them had rubbed off onto the other, leaving a dangerous strand of boldness. "Snow White?"

"Yes. She's a dear friend of mine."

"She's not-- she's not here, is she?"

"No. And I don't think I should disclose those details to you either." She was smart, too. "The pack, Huntsman?"

"I never knew my human parents. The pack took me in and taught me everything I know."

"That explains a lot," She mused quietly, catching him off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"The Children of the Moon have never been fond of humans. You're both one of them, and a hypocrite for it."

He'd never been called a hypocrite before; at least, not to his face. "If that's how you want to put it..." She didn't make to reply, or apologise, for which he didn't mind either. "By the time I left, a woman named Anita was their leader."

The way her breath caught, he knew he'd touched a sore topic, and immediately the connections were drawn. That severe jawline, those haunting deep-set eyes, and cheekbones like knives. Though he had never met Anita's daughter, he had learned enough about her from the others to know she was long lost. Taken, according to sources, by Anita's own mother.

"And you're Red, aren't you?"

"Did you know Anita is dead?" She snapped back defensively, as though he had somehow cornered her. It was not his intention at all.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-- how?"

"She tried to kill Snow. I stopped her."

Silence overcame them then. He'd never had a soft spot for Anita, and it was at her coercion that the pack made him leave. But by the crestfallen way Red spoke, he knew it was a tender topic.

"Can I ask you something else?" She spoke up, pulling him from his reverie. The Huntsman nodded, as though it were obvious. "Do you know how long a King's Moon lasts?"

"Do you not know?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

"I assumed-- I mean, I thought all wolves knew."

"Up until a year ago, I had no clue what I was." An angry blush overcame her cheeks then. It was sweet.

"The King's Moon only happens every few years, when the night of the summer solstice is met with the full moon's closest orbit. The length of the nights and the strength of the moon's pull make wolves stronger. Only the strongest know how to control themselves," It was a fact evident in the woman before him. "You might feel strange in human skin."

"I do," Her hand had been clutching her other elbow, where her grip had tightened. He wouldn't dare mention how it would make them wanton and needy for her pack; the fact that she didn't have one to speak of left him in the dark.

"Red, where's your pack?"

She looked at him almost guiltily. It wasn't particularly odd, so to speak, that she didn't have one. He'd just only ever known the Children of the Moon to move together. As they used to say, the lone wolf dies. "I can't find any other wolves. Snow is my-- my family, and my grandmother..."

"But it's not the same."

"--No."

He opened his mouth to apologise, before realising she had no clue what she was missing out on. To belong to a pack had been his greatest desire as a teenager, but Red didn't seem to have the slightest hint of what it meant to him. The fact that they would have grown up together, in some alternate world, was not missed upon him.

"You know that I cannot go back to the Queen empty-handed."

Her hackles rose at this. "And what do you intend to do about it?"

"She owns my heart. There's not much she can take from me if I return with nothing." The statement stopped both of them. Why had he told her that? She wasn't exactly warm or open to confessions, but it had turned her stony expression soft.

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't even return the sentiment. Ever since Regina had left a gaping hole in his chest, emotion had been beyond him. All that was left in his body was the bare roots of feelings he hadn't even experienced before. Empathy was lost to him, with love, and joy, and hate. But you didn't need a heart to know the difference between right and wrong, happiness and sadness, desire and distaste.

The Huntsman stood then, and pulled his cloak back on. Red watched with interest as he turned to leave.

"You're going?"

"I need to buy new supplies from the town. Arrows, you know," He admitted, watching the way her lips curled into a smirk. "You'll be safe here. I'll return before I have to leave."

"Will you stay for dinner?" She was almost hopeful as she looked at him, more human than ever. He nodded, and went to the door.

"See you soon."

* * *

He returned only early in the afternoon, but the storm clouds rolling in had hidden the sun and turned the forest as wild as the sea. All thoughts about the disgruntled shopkeeper and his reluctance to sell to the Queen's men were lost by the time he returned to Red. Soaked through to the bone, the Huntsman shed his cloak and furs before wetting her floors.

"I'm sorry,"

"Does it look like I mind?" There was a hint of a smile to her voice, the first he'd seen all day. Then he remembered that this same storm would be washing away the blood of the fallen wolves, and felt his stomach drop. The forest would be clean once again. "Go, sit in front of the fire before you fall ill."

He wasn't going to mention that the Queen would repair any ills by the time he returned. Or that it was improper for a young lady to be present as a man undressed. She seemed immune to it in any extent, tossing him a towel and spare cloak. (Though reddened cheeks showed otherwise.)

Red pushed a bowl of soup in his hands before sitting at the table, with a napkin and cutlery set out. He suddenly felt out of place, though she made no move to correct his lack of table manners. Her grandmother must have been once formidable force, to teach a werewolf how to dine like a queen.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asked, between bites of the rather excellent rabbit stew; she nodded in reply. "Your grandmother took you, didn't she?"

"Yes." She offered, her jaw clenched.

"Do you ever-- I mean, don't you ever wonder what it would have been like if you had stayed with Anita?"

"Anita was a lunatic who had no problems killing my closest friend."

"Red, I don't mean to insult you--"

"Then why are you asking?"

"Why are you so defensive?"

Why they had begun to yell was beyond them, though the rolling thunder outside probably had something to do with it. Her hand clutched her fork like a weapon, and even he was halfway to standing from his chair.

"I don't appreciate strange men coming into my home." She began, voice shaky. "Leading the Queen to me, and asking all these questions even I don't know the answer to." There was an unspoken sentence, though it hung between them. She was scared of him.

"I'm sorry." He spoke with sincerity. She did not make to reply. "Don't you want a pack?"

"Maybe one day." Red stirred her stew absently; the Huntsman joined her at the table, clutching the too-small cloak around his shoulders. When she spoke up again, her voice was small, a sound he didn't imagine someone so bold ever capable of making. "Do you?"

"It's all I know I do want." He didn't know what they were. Friends? There was too much animosity between them for it to be something that close. He thought he wanted to be around another Child of the Moon again, for the first time in years. But Red didn't know what she was. She was all teeth, sharp words and sharp cheekbones. She could have killed him where he sat, but she didn't have any sort of grasp over that power. She was strong enough to control her wolf, but not to control herself. He didn't know what he wanted from her.

"Huntsman?" Her eyes were sparkling with the light from the fireplace, the only light in the room.

"Yes?"

"Would you teach me more about the pack?"

He blinked, and nodded. Her smile in return was worth it.

"Thank you." If this was her way of placating the tension between them, he would not complain. For hours they discussed the pack and it's hierarchy, how the leader could easily fall into exile if he wasn't careful. He told her about the times he'd seen good wolves lose their minds during the King's Moon. She told him about her grandmother, who was a force in herself. By the time he began to yawn, the storm hadn't calmed a single bit, though Red had certainly softened up.

"There's a spare feather bed behind the armchair there." She stretched as she yawned behind her fist, before standing to remove her boots. "I'll get you a blanket--"

"You don't need to."

"My grandmother would kick you out to sleep in the woods. Did the Queen not teach you how to be gracious?"

"Was that a joke?"

Red looked at him pointedly, and handed him a blanket. "Maybe."

"A bit rough."

"Rough? Really?" The wolf reference was not lost on her either, another smile catching the corner of her mouth. "Go to sleep, Huntsman."

Red went to the bed at the back of the room, and before she could pull down the partition, he spoke up.

"Thank you. For everything."

"You mean not killing you when I could?"

"Something like that." He smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He laid the bed back from the fireplace and sprawled across it, just the blanket and his breeches for comfort. Summer was uncomfortable in these woods, but in this humidity and before the fire his clothes would dry fast. The Huntsman turned to his side, when the sight before him took the air from his lungs. Red had lit a lantern, illuminating her silhouette, and he knew her grandmother would have had good reason to kick him out. The corset fell to the floor, soon followed by her skirts and stockings; but not once did her cloak leave her shoulders. Odd. He forced his eyes closed turned before he got carried away, not ready to let a Child of the Moon work his way into him already.


	7. Wolf In My Heart, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A run in with more hunters during Red's first King's Moon makes her bring matters into her own hands, so to speak. It gets fairly NSFW towards the end. Inspired by the song You Are The Wilderness by Voxhaul Broadcast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's point of view.

The Huntsman looked young as he slept, she decided as she ate her breakfast. Red knew she should have killed him where he lay, save herself the trouble of a fight later on. It was one of the few differences between herself and Snow White. While the princess had difficulty with matters of life and death, Red had no problem eliminating threats.

But the Huntsman had proved himself worthwhile. He didn't actively want to harm her at all, and had provided her with priceless information. Information that no one, not even her Granny, would divulge. Still, she knew he had to be withholding something. Like how she had spent the last two nights in constant ache, both physical, mental, and sexual. Not exactly a topic of conversation deemed appropriate, though an explanation would serve well. She stepped through the cottage in silence, stocking-clad feet avoiding each squeaky floorboard. She had no intention of waking him yet, not until she knew what to do with him.

Snow White had told her what she knew about him, long before all this had happened. She said he was quiet, a man of honour who had been trapped into the Queen's bidding. He had taught Snow how to survive in the forests, and she wondered if he hadn't, would she had made it at all? Snow was, for all intents and purposes, in debt to the Huntsman. She just wasn't sure if the princess could ever return the favour. The Huntsman was bound to the Evil Queen, and nothing she or Snow could do would fix that.

He was heartless, that was for sure. There were ways he spoke that showed in evidence, brash and unfeeling. She had to remind herself that he was not at fault. There were some days when the past caught up to her, and she wished so dearly she didn't have to feel it. To be able to remember Peter without the ache and ruin? It was a life lesson, but she couldn't put a price to it. Was that what it was like for him? It would have been rude of her to ask, completely out of line. She was going to keep it that way for now.

She left a few hours after dawn, the Huntsman still snoozing on his mattress. Her cloak shed by the door, Red donned her furs before escaping into the woods. If he needed to find her he needed only follow clear prints left in the soft mud. The storm had ripped the forest apart, branches tossed about and the river bank's broken. She had to find food for dinner, which meant deer if it was going to be the two of them, and if she was going to be this voracious and hungry. Even after a bowl of oats, and two whole rabbits, Red was not sated. Food was not a good replacement for company, she knew. But she hadn't gathered the courage to go back and ask more questions, not yet. Passing it off as a reluctance to be subjected to his own questions, Red continued on, more than willing to ignore her own mistakes.

It was getting late when the hunters found her. She should have known the same men from not two nights ago would still be searching for her. She was larger than a real wolf, and the only one they hadn't fallen; a prize in their eyes. Her heart raced, but her hackles rose and teeth bared in a menacing growl. They had nets and spears, crossbows and shields, and for not the first time in a week, she felt the dread sensation of death at her door. Would they realise what they had done, after taking her head and watching fur become skin? Would she live long enough to feel their blades skin her alive? They would have done the Huntsman's job for him. There was no choice here, but to run.

As fast as her paws would take her, Red's legs pumped, flying beneath fallen branches and over ponds of puddles. An arrow hit her left flank, a mere toothpick to her side, but it ached something terrible. Their yells and calls grew louder, deflecting from the trees and ridges. If she stopped for even a moment they would find her. Stupid girl! Stupid!

Wolves did not cry. Wolves were teeth and claws and terrible red, and running away was for cowards. She stalked behind a brush of red and green leaves and waited until the man with the net came to her. His throat tore easily, and with the taste of metal and red on her lips, she felt her control slipping. Would she wake up in a few hours, surrounded by bloodied corpses? Would she even live the night to face her horrors in pale skin and red on her hands?

Before she could even approach the next man from behind, an arrow pierced his throat. Red felt the air in her lungs escape in one blow as the Huntsman's scent came upon her. He was... helping?

The third one fell at another arrow, and she took it as her salvation. Turning back towards the cottage, Red run faster than she had ever run in her life. The Huntsman was not far behind her, their pace matching. She could even hear his heartbeat, and wondered, if she were in her skin, would she have laughed? The hunters had become the hunted, and it all seemed so absurd.

Above them the storm returned, dark clouds rolling and brewing terrible sounds. As a child, Red was so scared of thunder and lightning, she hid beneath Granny's skirts. After one too many times, Granny pulled her to her feet, shook her shoulders.

"You have nothing to be frightened of. Every time you go into those woods, you must be the most terrifying thing out there."

She didn't realise the weight of what she meant until it was too late.

The rain came down in buckets, soaking her fur. They had finally lost them by the time they had doubled-back; even the Huntsman was smiling now. He claimed to just be a man, but sometimes he was as much of a wolf as she was. His teeth shone in the darkness like knives, like her own. Under the strength of the King's Moon she could have torn him limb from limb, but she wasn't going to do that. She wanted him. She wanted to keep him.

Barrelling into the cottage, mud-flecked fur and boots alike, the Huntsman and the wolf were finally safe. But even behind stone walls and the security of a hot fire, wolf's blood ran through Red. It pumped and curled her toes. As the Huntsman removed the arrow in her flank, her gaze barely left his own.

Her decision was somewhat logical. She didn't want to love anyone ever again, but she needed to feel something. Who better to do that with, than a heartless man? Pulling the red cloak over her shoulder, she let it do it's magic. Skin replacing fur, claws becoming nails; if Red thought being human would shake out the moon's effect, she was sorely mistaken. The Huntsman watched for only a moment, before turning his back to her and her naked flesh.

Red tucked the hood back and told herself she wouldn't be offended. He was a man of honour, but she was half a wild thing right now. A part of her doubted he could tame it.

"Look at me," It wasn't even her own voice when she spoke, but deep and taut.

"Get dressed, Red." Even the way he spoke had changed. Was he nervous?

"No."

He turned around then. She was dressed, in her cloak, and a trail of blood down her left thigh. In the firelight her skin was luminous, with sweat and wolf's blood. She thought she could do this, but not if he was scared of her. All men were scared of her, in one way or another. His fists clenched in his gloves, and the sound of the leather shot straight between her thighs.

"Are you scared of me, Huntsman?" Red's chest rose and fell in quick succession, flushed from the hunt and the run. His eyes met her then, and she felt the familiar film cover them. Golden and burning into his own.

"No."

"Then you should be." She hissed.

"You know that I can't love you." He dropped his wet cloak and gloves, peeled off his tunic. "Since the Queen took my heart--"

"I killed and ate the only person I loved, heart and all. Love is for people who have time to live, and if you didn't notice, they hunt wolves like us."

He didn't seem perturbed by this fact. If anything, it had only encouraged him. A clenched jaw and widened pupils set her heart racing again. Pulling her by her waist, the Huntsman held Red close, his nose brushing against hers.

"You can't take this off," She murmured, fingers clutching the tautly tied strings to her cloak. He nodded in reply, blue eyes searching gold. "I don't want to hurt you."

At first her lips barely brushed his at all. The hair of his beard was coarse, but his mouth was soft and talented. Her tongue grazed his, and her nipples grew hard against his chest. While Red's hands clutched at his shirt, tugging it from his belt, his hands held her bare waist. Before she really knew what she was, she had done this only once with Peter. Peter was all teeth and shaky hands and gentleness. She pushed those thoughts away and let the Huntsman taste her lips properly. His hands were calloused, smoothing over her hips and thighs, and there was nothing gentle in the way he kissed her. It was exactly what she needed.

"What's your real name?" She murmured after pulling away, the taste of his lips still rich on her mouth. The Huntsman gathered her up, thighs locking around his hips, before laying her on his mattress. Red let out a gentle sigh, followed by a quiet moan, as evidence of his arousal brushed against the wetness between her legs. The fire was red hot beside them, and soon they were both sweating.

"Graham." He said, smoothing back her hood and messy locks of hair. It suited him, she decided. Her hands slipped to his belt, removing the knives and daggers. His hands arched her back, pulling her close, pulling a smile to both their faces as they kissed again. Languid kisses that left her breathless and hungry, left his name on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! It is definitely not a fade-to-black, I promise.


	8. Wolf In My Heart, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A run in with more hunters during Red's first King's Moon makes her bring matters into her own hands, so to speak. Following some deliberation, the Huntsman is more than willing to comply. NSFW. Like Part 1, this chapter is inspired by the song You Are The Wilderness by Voxhall Broadcast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huntsman's point of view.

He should have known better. Should have left the day before, or at least at first daybreak. But as soon as the Huntsman woke, her presence lingering though not about, he knew he had to find her. Had to ensure her safety. Whether Red knew it or not, she had an innate ability to secure loyalty. As though he owed her something, he left the cottage secure, following her prints in the mud. He couldn't return to Regina not knowing if she was safe; would never forgive himself.

And then to fall back into the cottage, drenched, alive with adrenalin? It was like someone had dipped him back into his past, as though running alongside wolves was his natural state of things, or so to speak. The other hunters had no chance, not with her at his side. By the time they returned to the cottage, blood rushing, grins contagious, he had all but forgotten about his need to keep her safe. The arrow wound in her flank would be healed in moments, he knew, removing it with tenderness and ease. She was beautiful even as a wolf, thick black fur and strong muscles. He knew better than to expect nothing less from Anita's daughter.

But she was so much more than that. Where Anita was demanding, Red was endearing. Where the fallen leader had been enrapturing, her daughter was even dazzling. When her time came, she would be tenfold the leader Anita had ever been.

The Huntsman tossed the bloodied arrow into the flames he had stoked before leaving, when Red did the most curious thing. He should have known, should have suspected there was more than a little magic in these parts. The red cloak was woven with it, turning her wolf form to soft flesh and red blushes. He knew that she would have spent hours in furs without it, endangering herself to unnecessary peril. The Huntsman didn't realise he was staring until it was too late.

He turned his back to her, to restore her dignity, but the rasp in her voice expected otherwise. "Look at me." It was almost unfamiliar.

Grasping his fists tight, the Huntsman composed himself. Though by the way his voice shook, you wouldn't know it. "Get dressed, Red." What an absurd notion. To clothe someone so gorgeous, it hurt to look at her? Idiot. He told himself it was just the full moon doing this to her, not him, never him.

Her reply was simple enough. "No."

He had to get out of here somehow. He could have just walked straight out, left her standing in nothing but her flesh and skin. He owed her nothing, but felt indebted to give her everything.

The light from the fireplace shone on her skin, casting shadows and high-lighting her most enchanting form. Long, pale legs, shapely and dainty. But strong and fast, lean in places he expected curves, and muscular where other women were round. Her hips were broad, dipping into more muscle at her stomach. She was curves and long length in the best places, lean and feminine flesh in others. She had but small breasts, gorgeous and flushed with heat. Lengths of blood-stained and ink-black locks trailed over her shoulders, down her back. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Blood flooded his groin as he searched her body for any inclination that, no, she didn't want him. But there was nothing. Her hip cocked to an angle, and when he finally, finally met her eyes, she was smiling. Regina could have cursed him a thousand lifetimes over, to want and desire her, but none of it would have compared. To him, at this very moment, there was nothing else other than his flesh, and the Child of the Moon before him.

"Are you scared of me, Huntsman?" The question was not expected, but his response was near-instant.

"No."

"Then you should be." He knew that. He might have never loved her-- he might never have even known her-- but there was no question about her lethality. He wanted to taste her, to act upon his own desire and nothing created by sorcery. The Huntsman pulled his cloak from his shoulders, his gloves and tunic following soon after. Her eyes glowed golden and only grew hungrier as he approached her.

Even before the Queen had taken his heart, the Huntsman had difficulty connecting to people. Red had the heart of the princess and the boldness of his keeper; he did not want to harm her. Between the two of them, she seemed to understand this the most.

"You know that I can't love you. Since the Queen took my heart--"

She cut him off, words escaping her mouth he tried his hardest to not be surprised at. "I killed and ate the only person I loved, heart and all. Love is for people who have time to live, and if you didn't notice, they hunt wolves like us." Who was he? Had he died not knowing just how incredible she was? He hoped not. She had called him a wolf, and he would not forget it either.

In the firelight her skin glowed hot, the blood from her wound fuelling her dangerous appearance. He ached beneath his breeches, and pulling her close, he didn't need wolf-like senses to smell how wet she was. Leaning in to press his lips to hers, she stopped him only briefly.

"You can't take this off. I don't want to hurt you." If she so happened to hurt him, he couldn't find an inch to give a care. He'd spent over a year as Regina's slave; anything this woman could offer would be sweet in comparison.

Red tasted just how he thought, her lip soft against his tongue. His hand grasping her hip, the other sliding up her back, he brought her close, and let her swallow his throaty moans. The Huntsman's fingers curled against her flesh and held her tight, begging the flow of blood below his belt to calm down. Already he had begun to list the ways he would have Red on her back at his whims, when she pulled away. He never could have expected such a questions.

"What's your real name?"

No one had spoken it in years. Even he avoided it's use, so not even Regina could learn it's syllables. Would it be so hard for her to know the name the pack had chosen for him? If he was going to give it to anyone, why not a girl he'd never see again? His hands searched the side of her legs, before gathering them on either side of his waist. She was feather-light in his arms, and looked almost gift-wrapped upon his bed. "Graham." The word rolled from his mouth, completely unfamiliar. But the way Red spoke it, as her back arched and chest pressed flush to his, was like a prayer. He would have let her say it and scream it from the top of a mountain if only he could listen.

Red's fingers tugged his shirt from his belt, and over his shoulders. When they went for his daggers, a smile came to his face, between their kiss. She felt so wonderful under his weight, sharing their equal parts desperation and hunger. His tongue traced the corner of her mouth, eliciting a needy groan from the girl beneath him, before meeting her own and deepening the kiss. He had no intention of rushing things yet, but if she kept making noises like that, he didn't have a clue what would happen. Her legs were hooked around his hips, and her back arched delicately; the Huntsman could have died a happy man right then and there.

Next, her fingers went for his breeches; in a movement fast and strong, he clasped her wrists, and pinned them down. "Slow down," His lips were by her ear as he spoke, trailed down her throat. She tasted like blood and salt still, the metallic taste agreeable in their state of desire.

"You're driving me mad," Red murmured, bringing a grin to his lips.

"Good." She hummed at this, fingers sinking into his curly hair. His cock ached beneath his breeches, relief found only in the way her hips rolled against his. One hand pressed to the curve of her waist, the Huntsman's free hand slipped between her thighs. She was so wet already, and if she hadn't cried out so loudly from the contact of his finger circling up the slick, she might have heard his own moan.

"Graham," It was like a drug, falling from her lips and into his ears. He made but the slightest sound in response, as though egging her on to say it, just one more time. "I'm sorry I almost killed you."

"Shut up, would you?" She grinned at this, white teeth flashing like daggers in the dark of the room.

"Only if you do that again-- _Oh God_..." The noise she made, and he elicited, from a single flick of his wrist almost finished him then and there. Applying more pressure with his fingers, his lips went to her left breast, and gave a slow lick to her nipple. Red's fingers tugged in his hair, urging him neither one way or the other. He just needed to taste her before he fucked her.

Without hesitation, his fingers pushed into her, and curled. Was it so bad of him, to tease and coax like this? She was hot like a furnace, as all wolves were. When his lips finally joined his fingers, tongue tracing and rolling against her clit, she spoke his name again. She tasted like what he imagined she would, tart and wet and Red. The Huntsman groaned against her, secretly hoping she wouldn't need to seek out any other. Why would he want to share her, in any capacity? It was by his hand she spoke his name, toes curling and lips bitten raw. Red's hips began to work with his hand, rolling and bucking. He curled his fingers deeper in her cunt, and pulled them out only when she began to quiver around them. Lips still lathering attention between her thighs, he tried to hide his surprise as she sat up, and pulled him up with her.

Red's hair was mussed, and cheeks flushed as she kissed her taste from his lips. Deft fingers unlaced his breeches in an almost urgent manner, as though she knew just how he needed to be inside of her too. There were few words, just hands and legs and a shaky cry as she straddled his lap and let him fill her. A rush of air left his lungs at the tightness and sensation of her all around him.

"Are you okay?" He said in a hush, as though she weren't made of magic and stronger than he could hope to be. Red simply nodded, pushed back strands of hair from her sweaty chest, and rolled her hips. He wrapped his arms behind her back, and prayed for the night to last forever. The Huntsman told himself it was just the King's Moon doing this to her; that she was more wolf than girl tonight. But Red took what she wanted and it was no loss of animal control that showed. He was still resting on his haunches when she leaned back, a hand for leverage between them. The ends of her hair grazed the floor when she rolled her hips over his cock, the sight of her burned into his mind. She was equal parts precision and predator, but he needed more.

They didn't separate once as he moved to lay on his back; if anything, the atmosphere grew sweet, a little awkward. Red's hood fell forward over her head, pulling a private grin between them, before he picked up her hips and thrust back into her.

They probably shouldn't have been kissing. There was too much intimacy in it, and the way he'd whispered her name before her lips. He thrust his hips to meet hers with every roll and press, her teeth taking his lip without any pretence of being gentle. Red's claws dug into the flesh of his arm, her eyes flashed golden, and she didn't bother suppress a cry as she finished again. They kissed again as he pushed her onto her back, pushed back into her wet heat without hesitation.

Her hair was knotted, and the Huntsman was sure she was more wolf than woman at the moment, but she was... breathtaking. With her legs wrapped around his hips his thrusts gained momentum, falling in time with one another. She was so tight and yielding, her lips leaving scalding kisses down his neck. His hands were in her hair, her nails in his shoulders, and their foreheads pressed together when they came together.

* * *

 

The Huntsman didn't know what time it was when he woke. Well before dawn, though the fire had gone out at his back, and the storm had left them in silence. It was Red who woke him, curled on her side, body like a furnace.

He remembered when he was a child, when one of the wolves told him of the universes. And of worlds where anything could have happened, if he could just think of it. A world where he had a human family, or where the Children of the Moon didn't exist. But now all he could think of was a world where Regina had never taken his heart. A world where Red had grown up with the pack, with him. Would they have been friends? Lovers? More? He couldn't even imagine what it would have been like to love. If he could, he suspected that loving Red would have been as easy as it was to be loyal to her. Like it was what he was supposed to do all along.

Peeling himself from around her, the Huntsman dressed in silence, and pushed away those thoughts. It was futile to linger around Red or impossible fates. After scribbling a note of apologies, he pulled his quiver over his shoulder, and felt eyes boring into his back. They weren't golden anymore, but blue-green, stormy and growing darker. There were words to say, of course, but it was pointless. Red knew what it was. She'd called him a wolf earlier, but he wasn't her pack. She didn't make a move or sound to stop him as he left, and returned to meet his keeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Next chapter will return to Ruby and Graham!


End file.
